


Healing Blame

by romanticalgirl



Series: Wayward Souls [3]
Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 4-2-01</p>
    </blockquote>





	Healing Blame

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 4-2-01

Sitting here, in the dark, I stare at the walls. Theyre painted a soft blue, the threads of white clouds shining slightly. This is the only place I feel safe right now, even though theres no longer anything to fear.

I fear the look in my daughters eyes. I fear it because, in my own selfishness, I put that look there. Admittedly, Im not to blame for what happened. At least thats what all the doctors and psychologists and every other expert Ive gone to see has told me. Thats what Doug tells me late at night when Im curled up next to him, unable to sleep. Its not my fault. 

I wonder if Ill ever believe them. 

I remember the look on his face when I went to his hotel and tried to talk with him. I remember the sheer betrayal that hung in those blue eyes. I didnt set out to hurt him, didnt set out to do anything that happened that night, or the night we made love. We did make love on some level. It wasnt just about sex. I could never have cheated on Doug - just had sex with someone. 

It had to be someone I loved. At least in that, I didnt lie to him. 

Making love with him was exactly as I always imagined it would be. Hot and sweaty, sexy and loving, tender and insistent. He was an excellent lover. Probably the best Ive ever had, as much as I love Doug. He knew me on so many levels that no one else ever has. He knew me better than Dawson ever did, maybe better than I ever did. 

And now I cant even say his name. 

Its funny. The night I went to see him at the hotel was the same night that I told Doug the truth. Leaving one pair of those blue eyes, burning with tears and betrayal, I couldnt face another pair filled with trust and love. So I sat down in front of the fire at his feet, watching him as he held Megan and I swallowed hard, wondering why I didnt have any of the spirit, the courage that Id always prided myself on. 

You okay? Dougs hand stroked my hair back, his eyes concerned. 

Yes. And... Well, no. I pulled away from his touch, unwilling to let myself feel his love. Hed been such a surprise in my life. Id never expected to want him, to love him. Yet it just happened without my knowledge or consent. Seems to be de riguer when it comes to the Witters. I went...I didnt go to see Bessie. 

He didnt say anything, no doubt giving me enough rope to hang myself. Maybe he knew deep inside what had happened; maybe he had no clue. 

I went to see Pacey. 

And I would have thought dinner would have been enough for anyone. His tone is more sad than anything, slight disappointment at what his brother had become. If only he knew the truth instead of the lies Pacey had assumed they wanted to hear. 

I had to talk to him about...about something important. I fidgeted with my sleeve, unwilling to meet his eyes. God, those eyes can hurt. Something that I need to talk to you about as well. 

Something that concerns both me and my little brother? Dougs voice was dry and again, I wondered what he knew. 

I did something... 

Joey, Doug stood up and walked away, carrying Megan to her nursery and setting her gently in the crib. He was so good with her, so careful, so loving. As soon as she was down, still sleeping peacefully, he came back and sat back down, reaching for me. I let him pull me up, settle me in his lap. His eyes were unavoidable that way. Why dont you just tell me? 

I dont know how, I admitted. 

Its got to be fairly simple, after all I saw the look on Paceys face too. He looked away from me, grabbing my hand and rubbing my wedding ring absently. Im not Megans father, am I? 

No. 

He nodded and didnt say anything more, turning his gaze toward the fireplace. I could feel the hurt in him, the deep desire for denial. Thats one thing that I love about him, he never allows himself that luxury. Hes straightforward, hes honest, he doesnt pull his punches. Unfortunately for me, he expects the same treatment. And Im not as good at it as he is. 

So what does this mean, Jo? 

I can hear the tears in his voice. I hadnt been prepared for tears. I slid off his lap and knelt before him, desperate now to find his eyes. "Nothing. It means nothing. Not to us. I was crying too, wanting him to look at me. I love you, Doug. 

And Pacey? Do you love him, too? 

I could barely hear the words as he stood up, moving toward our bedroom. He walked away from me, closing the door behind him. As it shut softly, I heard my heart break. 

I dont remember when I finally managed to get to my feet and follow him, but I knew I had to. I knew that it was up to me to save my marriage. One that, for as much as it took me by surprise, meant more to me than I ever expected. Meant too much to lose. 

The bedroom door didnt make a sound as I opened it and, although it was dark, it seemed as if I could see him lying there, staring up at the ceiling. I walked over to the bed and sat down on my side, running my hand nervously over the covers. Do you hate me? 

No. 

Strangely enough, Pacey had never once come up during the time Doug and I dated, never even been mentioned. Maybe we both thought Id moved on, moved past it. Maybe neither of us wanted to bring it up, in case I hadnt. You asked me a question out there. Do you want to know the answer? 

He slid his arms underneath his head, still not looking at me. The sheet fell down his torso a little, the moonlight dancing on his smooth skin. Hes so different from Pacey, yet so similar. I dont honestly know, Joey. If the answers no, then I think I do. Although if the answers no, then youre not the woman I married. But if the answers yes, I dont think I want to hear it. 

Pacey will always have a place in my heart. He was my first real boyfriend. He wasnt my first lover, I placed my hand on Dougs chest, feeling him breath, feeling him hold so much back. But he was my first in so many things. On some level, Ill always love him. And thats the only reason I was able to sleep with him. But thats not why I slept with him. 

Why did you? 

Because we wanted a child. 

He laughed harshly, one brief outburst of sound. The we in there implies that it would be our child, Joey. Megans not. Shes Paceys. Yours and Paceys. 

Except Paceys not part of her life. Hes not going to be her father, not on any level. Hes never been her father. He hadnt knocked my hand away, hadnt asked me to stop touching him. I let my hand move slightly, rubbing his warm skin. He couldnt hate me and still lie there like this waiting for me, could he? He couldnt hate me and love me all at once? Youre her father, Doug. Youre the only man I want for that job. 

Why him, Jo? Why not any other man that might fit the bill? Surely there are a host of dark haired, blue eyed guys running around the country. Why did you have to pick Pacey? 

Because I couldnt have had sex with someone I didnt care about, Doug. You know that. Those were the words that would decide the fate of my family, my life. I knew that once they were out, it was all up to him. He sat up, turning his back on me. The sharp planes of his shoulders, the smooth skin moving over muscle as he sighed. I needed his words. Needed him to say what I wanted to hear, even though I knew I didnt deserve it. 

I love you, Joey. He stood up and walked away from me, his words ringing in my ears. As he left the room, I didnt know what to do or how to feel. I didnt know what anything meant. He loved me. And yet he walked away from me. I pictured Paceys eyes for just a moment, remembering what it felt like to break someones heart. I was getting far too much practice at it. 

I dont remember when the tears started falling. I dont remember their burning as they fell down my cheeks. I only remember the slow sinking as he sat down on the bed again, settling Megan between us. She lay there like some sort of sacrifice, the altar on which wed placed our marriage...where Id placed our marriage. I love you, too, I managed to whisper. 

I know. He lifted my chin and forced me to face him, his blue eyes shiny with tears. Tears of love? Of joy? Of regret? I dont know. To this day I dont know. And thats a pretty good foundation for a family, dont you think? 

~**~

I can hear Doug in the bedroom, tossing restlessly. He hasnt slept well since it all happened. I can still see his face in my mind. We were walking away from Paceys cell, neither of us willing to look back. But I did glance at Doug, and the sheer loss in his expression felt like a weight upon my shoulders. He had such hopes for Pacey, had really thought he had made it once I told him the truth of Paceys life. He was proud of his little brother. 

Irony. Its like a pacifier in Capeside, and its stayed with us our entire lives. 

I get out of my chair and walk to the door, haunting my own house like I now know that Pacey did. I stand in the bedroom doorway and stare at Doug. The covers rest lightly across his hips, his chest bare. Even on the day I married him, I had to defend my decision, our feelings for one another. Dawson asked me, somewhat incredulously, how I could marry him. How I could love him. 

I could almost hear Paceys taunt in my head that day. Yeah, how can you love someone who is so obviously playing for the other team, Jo? 

Even when I tried to explain it to Dawson, the words wouldnt come out right. How could I explain that when I went to see him that first day, all I could see or think about was how much I wanted to taste him? How could I explain that, for the first time in my life, I didnt give a damn about the consequences, so long as I could feel him inside me? And how could I explain that after feeling that for the first time, I couldnt let it go. I had to know him, devour him. I couldnt let anything rest. We stayed up nights just talking, telling each other lies and truth until I woke up one morning in his arms and I realized I was in love with him. 

I realized what I had thought was merely a good time was actually me falling. And, when he woke up and found me sitting beside him, tears streaming down my face, he held me and assured me it was nothing to be afraid of, swore to me that he loved me too. 

I never doubted him. Not for an instant. Never doubted his love, his devotion, his intentions. And, to be honest, I didnt even think about Pacey. Maybe thats heartless, but wed both moved on. I certainly didnt pursue Doug to hurt him, wasnt trying to exact some sort of Machiavellian revenge. I just fell in love with him. And, if falling for Pacey proved anything to me, it was that you cant choose who you love. 

I move closer and lay next to him, propped up on one elbow so that I can stare down at him. Hes normally so peaceful in his sleep, his face relaxed and at ease. But now his brow is furrowed and I know that hes dreaming again. Hes dreaming hes too late. I reach over and smooth the skin, running my fingers over his forehead in a light caress. 

When I ran into Pacey, I wanted to tell him. I dont know what made me freeze, what made the words refuse to leave me. I just knew that if I told him, Id lose my chance, my opportunity. What seemed, at the time, to be the last opportunity I might ever get. 

Doug rolls toward me and I make my way into his arms, wishing Id thought to get under the covers with him so that I can feel his body against mine. So that, as I lay there, he could feel the baby move inside me and let that reassure him. 

Megan was two when we moved from Capeside. Doug decided that we needed to distance ourselves from our old lives, and I agreed with him. I dont think Id talked to anyone in months, refusing to see my friends, afraid that theyd have heard something, asked some questions. So we moved and, except for Dougs mother, we didnt tell anyone where. 

It was a fresh start, free of any history. And, for the first time since Id told him the truth, I honestly felt like Doug and I werent holding back from each other. We would make love and it would be the same as it had been before, full of passion and laughter, need and desire. We settled down and everything was fine. I was happy again. Happy in my marriage and my family, my life and my job. 

And never once did I feel like I was being watched. 

~**~

During the trial, we saw all the evidence of his crimes. I pull out of Dougs embrace and lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Photographs lined his walls. I saw myself through his eyes and I hated myself so much. I hated that he had seen those intimate moments, that he had fantasized about them, that he had wrapped himself up in lies and pretended that they meant something else, that they were intended for him. I saw the pictures of Megan, so innocent, captured on his wall like some sort of specimen. And although he swore, and his psychiatrist assured us that it was true, I refuse to believe that he didnt fantasize about her too. 

Theres a soft sound in the hall and I get to my feet, moving quickly. In some ways, I wish it was him. I wish he would be standing there like he confessed he used to do and I would take Dougs gun and end it all. End the nightmares and the horrors that he inflicted on us. Instead, its Megan, standing in her doorway wiping her eyes sleepily. 

I gather her up in a hug, kneeling on the carpet next to her. As soon as she feels safe enough to let me go, I stand and take her hand, leading her into the nursery. I sit in the rocker and pull her onto my lap, caressing her hair as we rock gently. 

I heard every word of his confession. He never once tried to deny it, feeling that his explanation would justify him, would make us all see how right he was in what he had done. I sat there across from the man I once loved and thought I knew and realized that maybe Id never known him at all. Maybe the man I thought I knew existed was just me looking back and making up lies. 

I lean into Megan and inhale her sweet scent, so glad that it is untainted. Ive been thankful for many things in my life, but nothing more than that. 

Shes sleeping again, so I carry her into her bedroom, aware that I wont be able to do it again until after this baby is born. Not that much longer to go. It seems strange that this baby, this completely innocent being, is what brought this all to a head, fractured his already fragile personality and sent him careening out of control. 

At the trial, they presented DNA evidence trying to support his claim as Megans father. What they intended to do with the information, I dont pretend to know. Its not as if some sort of legal battle was going to be waged and won on his blood type. We did the tests and nothing was conclusive, just as Doug had predicted. But it opened a door that I dont think any of us acknowledged was even there. 

Our lawyer stood before him and presented him with the DNA evidence. He denied that it mattered, since he and Doug shared the same genes. The lawyer smiled, thanking him for the opening in his own little way, and nodded. And then he reminded us all, jurors and participants alike, that due to the DNA evidence and the fact that I was pregnant with Dougs child at that very moment, it was equally as likely that Megan was Dougs child as it was that she was Paceys. 

Making sure that her nightlight is on, I leave Megans room and head back to the nursery. Its safe in here, safe from all the horrors that Ive been living over the last couple of months. The verdict was handed down today, and hes behind bars. Sentenced to 40 years, eligible for parole in 17. 

Megan will be 24 then. And hopefully what happened to her, what he did to her  to all of us  will be long forgotten by then. Hopefully by then well heal. Hopefully well all forgive ourselves for what we know logically was not our fault. 

And maybe, by then, Ill be able to say his name.


End file.
